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“I don’t know what I’m thinking,” I admitted. “This is all so complicated. And terrifying.”

“Oh, sweetie.” Hannah patted my hand. “It doesn’t have to be. You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

“What Hannah means,” Bettie interjected, “is that Flynn Kingman has a certain... reputation.”

The two-week rule. I remembered hearing about it at the party, though the details were fuzzy thanks to the vodka. "I know he doesn’t do serious relationships. I’m sure this is just another fling for him.”

Of course it was. That was why I needed to dissect this with my girls. They’d set me straight.

“Usually,” Alice agreed. “But he’s been chasing you for months. And I’ve never seen him look at any girl the way he looks at you.”

How exactly did he look at me?

“And he’s not usually a first kiss kind of guy,” Parker added. “Word is he usually skips to the main event pretty quickly. Is that what you want?”

The implication made my cheeks burn hotter. “We’re not… I mean, I haven’t…” I took a deep breath. “I’ve never even had a boyfriend before, much less had sex. Mierda. This is a disaster, isn’t it?”

“That’s how the best stories start,” Hannah said wisely.

But did I want to have sex with Flynn?

Ugh. Very much. Very, very much .

“But now he’s gone for a week,” I added, unable to keep the disappointment from my voice. “For his football thing.”

“Which gives us exactly seven days to prepare for what happens when he comes back,” Parker declared.

Oh, gawd. If anyone brought out Barbie and Ken and tried to give me the birds and bees talk, I was going to feed them to Burrito Petito.

“Operation Fun Times with Flynn is officially a go.” Bettie clapped her hands. “The combine’s on TV tomorrow. I’m declaring it a KAT house viewing party.”

“What? No. That’s too much,” I protested. I wasn’t even sure what a combine was.

“Too late.” Alice said, tapping on her phone. “And I may have just had ‘Team Flynn’ shirts made for the senior class.”

“You did not,” I groaned.

“Oh, but I did.” She showed me her screen, where a mock-up displayed a purple and gold DSU Dragons shirt with ‘KINGMAN 50’ on the back. “They’ll be here tomorrow.”

I flopped back on my bed, torn between mortification and a strange, bubbling happiness. “You’re all terrible.”

“You love us,” Parker said confidently.

Looking around at their eager, supportive faces, I couldn’t argue with that. For all their teasing and meddling, they were the first people besides Tío Pedro and Abuela who accepted me exactly as I was.

“Fine,” I conceded. “But no signs. Or body paint. Or anything that would end up on Flynn’s InstaSnap.”

“No promises,” Bettie sang .

Monday afternoon, more sorority sisters than I knew I had gathered in our TV room watching...football players do... things.

“There he is,” Parker screamed, pointing at the TV.

The room erupted in cheers as the screen filled with Flynn’s face. He stood in a line of players waiting for the 40-yard dash, looking focused but confident in his training gear, number 50 displayed prominently on his chest.

I sank lower in my seat, feeling simultaneously proud and embarrassed by the spectacle around me. True to her word, Alice had distributed “Team Flynn” shirts to way more than the senior class. Someone, probably Hannah, had even made a banner.

“God, he’s so hot,” a sophomore named Heather sighed from somewhere behind me. “Tempest, you are so lucky.”

“We’re just friends,” I said automatically, though the words felt hollow after that kiss.

The room filled with knowing laughter.

“Sure, honey.” Bettie patted my shoulder. “Just friends who make out on your abuela’s porch.”

“Shh, he’s up.” Alice hushed the room.

I held my breath as he crouched into position. The camera zoomed in on his face, those blue eyes intense with concentration, jaw set. This was the future professional football star, and potentially my boyfriend.

The whistle blew, and Flynn exploded off the line. Even to my untrained eye, his speed was impressive, his form perfect as he powered down the track.

“4.58 seconds,” Hannah read as his time flashed on the screen. “Is that good? ”

“For a linebacker? It’s amazing,” Bettie confirmed, and the room erupted in cheers again.

The broadcast cut to a replay of his run, then to the announcers discussing his performance.

“Flynn Kingman showing why he’s projected as a first-round pick,” one analyst said. “Great speed, excellent movement skills. He’s going to make some team incredibly happy.”

“And I’m hearing the LA Bandits are showing particular interest,” the other added. “Along with the Denver Mustangs, of course, where Kingman would join his brothers.”

LA. The word sent an unexpected chill through me.

My phone buzzed with a text.

Flynn: Did you see that? Pretty sure I felt you watching.

I smiled, typing back quickly.

Me: The entire KAT house saw it. Someone may have made Team Flynn shirts.

Flynn: Please tell me you’re wearing one.

Me: No comment.

Flynn: I’ll take that as a yes. Gotta run, more drills. Miss you.

The last two words made my heart stutter. Miss you. As if we’d been together forever instead of sharing one kiss.

Me: Good luck. We’re all cheering for you.

I almost added “miss you too,” but something held me back. This was all happening so fast. One minute we were arguing about Shakespeare, the next we were kissing, and now...

Now what?

My career phone vibrated in my back pocket. Gloria again, confirming my flight for LA during spring break.

Parker noticed my sudden distraction. “You look like someone just told you they killed your fictional boyfriend.”

“I’m fine,” I lied. “Just thinking.”

The broadcast moved on to other players, but my mind remained stuck on Flynn, on LA, on the complicated web I was weaving around myself. Each secret I kept made it harder to be honest, to be vulnerable. And didn’t Flynn deserve the truth?

“I’m gonna grab some...water before Flynn is on again,” I murmured, slipping out of the room while everyone was distracted by Gryffin’s turn on the track.

In the quiet of our bedroom, before I could overthink it, I dialed Abuela’s number.

“Mi corazón,” her warm voice answered. “How are you?”

“Confused,” I admitted. “Can I ask your advice?”

“Of course. Is this about your handsome friend? You know I’m a fan of the footballers.”

Despite everything, I smiled. “Sort of. It’s complicated.”

“Ah,” Abuela said knowingly. “Because he kissed you. ”

“How did you…?” I stopped. Abuela knew everything. She always did.

“The way I see it, you have two options,” Abuela said. “You can continue keeping these various parts of your life, school, family, career, love, separate, which means more lies and complications. Or...”

I didn’t pretend not to know what she was talking about. She was one of the only people in the world who knew almost all my secrets. Even so, I kept certain parts of my heart hidden away.

“Or?” I prompted when she paused.

“Or you can start letting people in,” she said gently. “Not everyone. Not all at once. But maybe it’s time to stop hiding yourself away, Tempestina.”

“What if he thinks I’m, I don’t know, some silly girl with romantic fantasies?” The question was barely a whisper. “What if he realizes I’ve been lying to him and everyone else?”

“Listen, querida. If this boy can’t appreciate your talent and your reasons for privacy, then he’s not worth your time anyway.”

“He might be worth it,” I admitted softly.

“Then trust him with the truth,” Abuela advised. “But no matter what you decide, your future is bright, mi corazón, with or without a handsome footballer.”

“Though the handsome footballer doesn’t hurt,” Tío Pedro added in the background. Because of course, he was listening in.

I laughed despite myself. “Thank you both. I love you.”

“We love you too, Tempestina. Now go watch your boy run around in his tight pants. ”

“Abuela.”

Her laughter was the last thing I heard before hanging up.

Back in the common room, I slipped into my seat just as Flynn appeared on screen again, this time for shuttle drills. Parker raised an eyebrow at me but didn’t comment on my absence.

On screen, Flynn moved with athletic grace, his face a mask of concentration. When he finished, the camera caught him looking directly into the lens for a moment, as if he could see through it to me. He held up his hands to the camera and made a heart with his fingers.

My heart lurched in my chest as the room erupted in squeals and cheers around me. Several sisters turned to look at me, their expressions delighted.

“Oh my god,” Parker grabbed my arm. “Did Flynn Kingman just give you heart hands on national TV?”

I couldn’t answer. Couldn’t breathe. He’d basically just declared his love for me in front of the universe, and here I was, still keeping secrets, still hiding parts of myself away.

Abuela’s words echoed in my mind. If he’s worth it, trust him with the truth.

I pulled out my phone and opened my texts with Flynn. I sent him the heart hands emoji and then waited to see if he got it and replied.

His response came almost immediately.

Flynn: Can’t wait to see you when I get back. Hopefully in nothing but that Team Flynn t-shirt.

Me: Me either. I have some spring break plans I want to tell you about later too.

Before I could second-guess myself, I sent a final message.

Me: I am wearing the shirt now. Maybe I’ll wear it to bed tonight too.

I’d written dozens of revelation scenes in my books. Now it was time to write my own.